


As You Wish

by Phrenotobe



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/F, Nohrians with dragon claws, alcohol mention (brief), fefemslashweek2016, frequent mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7907659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrenotobe/pseuds/Phrenotobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky is the grainy, textured colour of coal. Lightless, Beruka navigates by distant lamps and the sounds the flagstones make, the feel of them underneath the slim soles of her boots. She would know her way back to Lady Camilla's rooms blindfolded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/gifts).



The sky above the castle keep in Krakenburg is the grainy, textured colour of coal. Lightless, Beruka navigates by distant lamps and the sounds the flagstones make, the feel of them underneath the slim soles of her boots. She would know her way back to Lady Camilla's rooms blindfolded. 

After a brief knock that serves as both a request for entry and an announcement that she has returned, Beruka steps in and feels the blood roll down into her boot. She's aware that Camilla will make a fuss, although she's not sure why it means so much; but she speaks politely all the same.  
"Mission complete, Lady Camilla."  
"Thank you, darling," Camilla says, and finally sits down on the bedcovers with a long sigh, "Let's have a good look at you." 

Beruka wears the armor with care, as much as she can. Despite scratches and dents being the halmark of a good soldier, she re-applies the paint back on it carefully on her free days, letting the acrid scent burn in her nose as she polishes her equipment. Selena and she share the care of Lady Camilla's armor and weaponry, trading off the days on which they work on them directly, but the armor she wears - that she was given, the morning after she agreed to her terms and acquiesced to Camilla’s offer - is of good make, and once belonged to royalty. She remembers that night, spent awake, bedded down by the foot of her master’s bed and listening to the sound of Camilla’s slow, easy breath as she slept. 

She accepts that sometimes, Camilla will arrive with an expensive glass and a bottle of some liquor, thick and sweet, and drape herself over Beruka's shoulder to watch her maintain her equipment. It is a familiar thing, enough to be a habit, and something she finds unusual when it does not happen. She does not understand why it happens at all. 

Perhaps it is the blood, crawling slick and sticky down her shin, but Beruka doesn't quite notice that Camilla's gloves are off until her face is caught in one regal hand and lifted, so that Camilla might inspect her best. 

Camilla's palm is soft, tender and cared for; the ridged edge of her thumb presses against Beruka's lower lip. Beruka passively acknowledges the edge of a sharp claw, long and laid down to rest near Beruka's steady pulse. Beruka sometimes wonders what it would feel like if Camilla's sharp edges ever pressed down; if it would be a crisp scratch like a knife or a different weapon on her skin. She turns her head into the grip, presses her mouth to the soft of Camilla's palm as the gesture turns the solid curve of Camilla's claw into a needle point. 

"Sweetie, you're hurt," Camilla's voice says distantly, and Beruka wonders if it is disappointment.  
"All stages of my mission are complete," Beruka says, to try and compensate for the lodged heaviness that won't unstick from her chest.  
"But darling-"  
"I will be fit to return to my duties tomorrow."  
"No," Camilla says, low and smooth. Beruka recognizes when she's saying something with perfect seriousness. "No, you'll be resting. I won't allow it."  
Beruka finally opens her eyes, her mouth open to protest.  
"Lady Camilla," she says, unsure if it counts as complaint or reply, "As you command."


End file.
